Be a Man
by Astra H. Lowelle
Summary: When Draco Malfoy is told that he is in danger of failing Transfiguration, his 'tutor' brings out a lot of previously-suppressed emotion… and a new enemy.
1. Prologue

Draco Malfoy was not having a good day.

It was bad enough that Crabbe was in the hospital wing with Quidditch injuries, leaving him with only one minion, but now this?

He had laughed it off with his fellow Slytherins when Professor McGonagall had asked to speak with him after class, but then she had looked at him severely over the rim of her glasses and told him he was failing Transfiguration, and suddenly nothing seemed funny anymore.

Now there he sat, staring at the biscuit tin on her desk, awaiting his verdict, when there was a knock at the door of Professor McGonagall's office.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Very well, I suppose I ought to take that one, Mr. Malfoy, seeing as I don't know how much longer you and I will have to be here."

Draco scowled. Professor McGonagall frowned at him.

"Scowling is not gentlemanly behavior, Mr. Malfoy. Please change that before I take ten points from Slytherin for sheer rudeness."

She raised her voice a bit. "You may come in."

The door was pushed open and in walked Hermione Granger, the most dreadful witch in the entire third year.

No. Draco did not have a crush on her, thanks.

"Ah. . . Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall inclined her head slightly. "How may I be of assistance, today?"

Hermione played with her gorgeously frizzy hair, a blush spreading across her face. "Uh . . . it's all right, Professor, I can just-"

McGonagall frowned slightly. "I wonder. . . Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Well, this would be quite . . . unorthodox . . . but. . . I wonder, Miss Granger, would you consider tutoring Mr. Malfoy? He's fallen quite behind in Transfiguration, you see."

Draco couldn't believe his ears. Was his luck turning around?

Not that he'd want to be tutored by a filthy Mudblood, obviously.

Hermione frowned. She looked so beautiful like that. Er - that is - Mudbloody. "Well, Professor, it's just that I have a lot of work and -"

"Right, of course." Professor McGonagall nodded, and Draco sighed internally. No! He was so close! Then McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "What about . . . the way you've been managing the rest of your classes? Can you continue in that way and tutor Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco was fairly certain he heard angels sing, although that might have just been a Sneakoscope going off somewhere in the background. Hermione paused. "Well. . . I suppose I could."

"Wonderful." Professor McGonagall stood up behind her desk. "That's settled, then. Miss Granger, you are to tutor Mr. Malfoy. . . I would say twice weekly should work. Miss Granger, please inform Mr. Malfoy of where and when to meet you. I would recommend the library. Now, please leave my office."

With that, Draco Malfoy's terrible day turned into the best day of his life.

Who knew failing Transfiguration could be so rewarding?


	2. Chapter 1

Draco shouldered his bag, took a deep breath, and entered the quiet library. Hermione had told him to be at the twenty-third row from the left at nine-o'clock sharp. He was a few minutes early, but it never hurt to be early.

Hermione was waiting there for him, a stack of books piled three deep in front of her on a table. He sat down opposite her, checking quickly around to make sure no one he knew was around first. She took a book from midway through the pile and flipped it to the page she wanted.

"Here, read this. Knowing the theory of the spell in question usually helps to perform it."

She handed Draco the book. As he took it, their fingers touched momentarily. A sudden electric tingle raced up his spine at the contact. Hermione blushed slightly and quickly pulled her hand away.

Draco skimmed quickly through the theory while Hermione took an orange out of her bag. Setting it on the table between them, she pulled out her wand.

"Watch," she ordered, and Draco shut the book. Hermione gave her wand a neat flick at the orange, producing a puff of pale green smoke. When it cleared, a rosy red apple sat on the table where the orange had been a moment ago.

"Nice," Draco approved lazily. He took the apple, turning it over in his hand, and then crunched into it.

"No hint of orange whatsoever," he noted, putting his middle finger and thumb together as if savoring an elegant wine. Hermione rolled her eyes. She looked so beautiful doing that.

"Now try and turn it back to an orange," she told him. "You do know the incantation, I hope?"

"Oh, yes," Draco smirked. "But I like this the way it is."

Hermione closed her eyes as if praying for patience. She was looking better by the minute, he thought.

"Just try it, all right?"

Draco put the half-eaten apple back down on the table and pulled out his wand. He flicked it at the apple, as he had seen Hermione do, and said the incantation. A wisp of mist wafted from the wand tip, encircling the apple. When it cleared, the apple was still there. It was, however, no longer rosy red but cobalt blue.

"Well," Hermione sighed. "It's a start, I guess."

From across the room, a dark face peered out from behind a bookshelf. The owner of the face, a tall, handsome boy with dark skin and crafty eyes, rubbed his hands together slightly, an evil grin breaking over his face.

A few shelves over, a second, smaller boy pulled out a camera and snapped a photo of the tutoring session, an awestruck look on his pale, slight face.

﴾ ﴿

Draco came back into the common room, flopped into a high-backed armchair, and closed his eyes. He felt drained and exhausted, but elated. He had finally mastered the Switching Spell, and better yet, he had spent an entire hour in the library with Hermione Granger without doing or saying anything stupid. Sure, he knew she didn't want to be there, but it was a start. Draco smiled hazily. Yes. It was definitely a start.

He checked his watch. It was getting late. He hadn't realized quite how tired he was. The Slytherin common room was still noisy and full - the Slytherins generally went to bed at about one o'clock in the morning. Not tonight, though, Draco thought sleepily. He would take an early night. He had Transfiguration tomorrow with the Gryffindors, after all.

"I'm going to bed," Draco announced to no one in particular. Blaise Zabini looked up from his Potions homework, then back down again. No one else paid him any attention. That was fine with him. He climbed the steps toward his dormitory, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

He changed quickly and got into bed, drawing the hangings shut around him. He didn't want any disturbances now, of all times. He needed his sleep.


	3. Chapter 2

"Draco, mate, you all right?"

Draco blinked and sat up in bed. The bed hangings had been pulled to one side. The room was dark. Blaise Zabini, clad in monogrammed silk pajamas, was standing over him, his eyes gleaming.

"I . . . what?"

Blaise had never appeared concerned for his welfare before, and certainly never called him "mate."

"It's just. . . ." Blaise popped his knuckles slowly, one at a time, relishing a look of sarcastic glee. "In the common room this evening, you looked a little sick. I'd almost call it . . . lovesick."

Draco swallowed hard. "You saw, didn't you?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Oh, I definitely saw."

Blaise sat down on the edge of Draco's bed.

"I saw you and that. . . _Mudblood_ in the library. No doubt you were just studying, right?"

"We were," Draco said, but his voice squeaked. Even _he_ wouldn't be convinced by that answer.

"Right," Blaise said, leaning back against a bedpost, his eyes cold and joyful. "Right."

He fiddled with the edge of his sleeve, one corner of his mouth twisting upward, his eyes still locked on Draco's.

"So, Draco, it looks like it's quite simple. I have information. You don't want others to have this information."

Draco ran his hand through his hair and gritted his teeth. "How much do you want, Zabini?"

Blaise smiled slowly. "I wouldn't ask how much, Malfoy. I'd ask more like _what_."

"Fine, then, _what_?"

"Well." Blaise examined his fingernails leisurely. "There is one thing you could do for me. But I don't know if you'd be willing."

"What?" Draco asked, his voice breaking on the end of the word. "What do you want?"

"Weeeell," Blaise said, smiling slowly as he drew out the word, "let's say you get Ginny Weasley to agree to accompany me to Hogsmeade when I ask her next week."

 _"What?"_

It took all Draco's willpower not to yell. "How on Earth am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know," Blaise said, grinning evilly, his every word dripping with malice. "Isn't that your department, _lover boy?_ "

He spoke the last part in a whisper, but Draco felt icy chills slither up his spine.

"I tell you what," Blaise went on in an undertone. "Either Ginny agrees when I ask her out next week, or you and Granger become-" he paused, his eyes dancing - "school news. I'm sure I could bribe the little Creevey boy to give me a copy of that photo I saw him taking of the two of you, which I could then duplicate and plaster over every. Single. Desk. In. This. School."

Draco felt the blood drain out of his face. How anyone could be this evil aside from the Dark Lord, he wasn't quite sure. But Blaise wasn't even finished.

"And _,"_ he continued softly, a cruel smile twisting one corner of his mouth. "Once I'm doing all that duplicating, wouldn't it be nice if I made an extra copy- _and then sent it to your father?"_

Draco gasped. He felt like Blaise had just punched him in the stomach.

"You - _you wouldn't -"_

Blaise's eyes glinted, and a cruel chuckle emitted from his throat. He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

Draco swallowed hard. "I'll do it," he whispered. "I don't know how, but I'll do it."

Blaise smiled again and slid off Draco's bed. 'That's what I like to hear," he said quietly. "I look forward to seeing the results of your efforts."

He sauntered off toward the other side of the dormitory, where his bed was. As he reached it, he turned.

"Oh - and Draco?"

"What?" Draco managed to croak.

"Sweet dreams," Blaise said, smiling at him.

Draco slumped back over his pillows as Blaise got into bed and pulled his hangings shut. What he had thought would be a dream come true was turning into the worst nightmare of his life.

"Draco. _Draco!_ Wake up!"

Draco's eyes flew open, and he bolted up into a sitting position. Crabbe was standing beside his bed, still fully dressed from the hospital wing and looking slightly scared.

"You're all sweaty, and you were shaking and twitching and mumbling something," he whispered, his large face pale in the dark. "Something like "Father" and "disown" and something like "beanie" and "wheezy." Are you all right?"

Draco looked at him, breathing hard and trying to calm his racing heart. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he replied hoarsely. "Is there any water left in the jug on the windowsill?"

"I'll go look." Crabbe disappeared into the gloom.

Draco closed his eyes. His dream had been so _vivid!_ Crabbe had been right - he was drenched in icy sweat. He shivered, pulling the blankets closer around himself.

"Here." Crabbe had returned. He pushed a glass tumbler into Draco's trembling hand. "There was still some left."

Draco took a sip, letting the cool water sit in his parched mouth for a moment before swallowing it. Crabbe stood awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do next.

"Do you want me to call Madame Pomfrey?" he offered nervously.

"No," Draco mumbled. "Don't call anyone. I'm fine."

He took another mouthful of water and pulled his hangings shut, signifying that the conversation was over. He heard Crabbe's heavy feet shuffling away, then sank back against his pillows, feeling drained and completely exhausted.


	4. Chapter 3

"Hey, Hermione," Harry asked curiously from his place at the fire, where he was getting pummeled by Ron at chess. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere," Hermione said shortly, grabbing her wand and stuffing her Transfiguration textbook into her bag. Ron looked up.

"Does this have anything to do with what you were talking to McGonagall about the other day?" he asked curiously.

"I'll see you later, Ron. I've got to run."

Hermione hefted her bag and crossed the common room. She was almost at the portrait hole door when it burst open and Colin Creevey came barreling in.

"Hullo, Colin," Harry said wearily as the younger boy almost collided with his chair, brandishing a camera frantically.

"Harry! _Harry!_ You've _got_ to see this! I couldn't believe it either, but I got a _picture_ of it, and I couldn't find you all _yesterday_ so I came here to _show_ you, and -"

"All right," Harry amended. "Let me see."

As Colin was about to hand over the camera, Fred and George Weasley came by. Fred passed Colin, looked at the camera, did a double take, and wrenched it from his hand. Fred's mouth fell open. George grabbed the camera from his brother and gaped.

"What?" Harry asked impatiently. George handed him the camera. Ron leaned over to see it.

"Uh, Hermione?" Harry asked.

" _What,_ Harry?"

"Did you - ?"

"NO!"

"I was just going to ask if you did your Potions homework."

"But are you meeting -" Ron interrupted.

"Ronald, shut your mouth," said Fred. "It's Hermione's business if she wants to date -"

"FRED!" yelled Hermione.

"Yes," said George. "You're absolutely right, Fred. Ronald, dear brother of ours, _do_ shut your mouth. _We_ 'll handle the interrogations."

The twins came around the couch and plopped down onto it.

"So, Hermione." George waggled his eyebrows. "Since when _do_ you have an interest in blonds?"

"I do _not_!"

"Are you certain?" Fred asked innocently. "I hear they -"

"Yes! I'm quite certain!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's it. I'm leaving."

"Was that a confession?" George asked slyly.

"For your information," Hermione hissed, "I'm tutoring him in Transfiguration. Not anything else."

"That's your story, anyway."

" _What?"_ Hermione sputtered.

"So what are you _really_ teaching him during those cozy little library sessions, anyway?" Fred asked languidly, stretching out across the couch."How to perform perfect French kisses?"

Hermione went crimson. George grinned.

"And next week, you'll move on to -"

"George," said Hermione calmly, though her cheeks were still flaming, "If you value your neck in one unbroken piece, I invite you to shut up."

She stalked out of the common room, slamming the door behind her. Fred and George grinned.

"Well, that went well," said Fred.


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Draco was at a loss for what to do.

 _How_ was he supposed to get Ginny Weasley to go out with Blaise Zabini? They were both pureblood, but that was where the similarities ended. And he fervently hoped Zabini didn't realize that Ginny couldn't even go to Hogsmeade - she wasn't old enough.

Besides. He didn't think _anyone_ would want to go out with Zabini, much less Ginny Weasley.

He sighed and took a swig of pumpkin juice. He had to do it, or he and Hermione were in a duel without a wand. What was he going to do? He didn't know Ginny at all, her older brothers would be no help whatsoever, and the only person he knew smart enough to get him out of this situation was-

That was it!

﴾ ﴿

She was waiting for him in the library, her glorious locks of frizzy brown hair spread across her shoulders, her beautiful eyes - no. He mustn't get distracted. That's what Father had always told him, anyway.

"Er, Hermione?"

She looked up suddenly like she was surprised to see him. "Oh. Uh, yeah, Malfoy, we ought to study."

Was it his imagination, or was she blushing? No matter. He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his gelled blonde hair. "I was just wondering . . . before we started . . . um . . . can I . . . ask you something?" 

Merlin's beard, this was awkward. Hermione nodded. "Yeah, um, sure, I don't - I don't see why not."

Good. She sounded nervous too. He wouldn't be the only one. "It's just . . . er. . . ." Great. He sounded like a fool already. Nice start, he thought to himself bitterly. "You know . . . ah. . . Ginny Weasley?"

Hermione nodded again, restacking the books in front of her. "Yeah - yeah, I know her."

"Right . . . so do you think . . . er . . . is she . . . is she . . . is she seeing anyone?"

"Seeing anyone?"

"You know." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Is she . . . is she dating anyone? Or is she available?"

"Oh." Hermione looked down at her hands, and Draco suddenly realized how this had to seem.

"Not - not for me! It's for . . . it's for a friend."

"Oh." She looked disappointed. He wasn't sure whether or not he should be happy about that.

"No - no, seriously, I mean it!"

"No, it's fine. You can date whoever you want."

"I - Hermione - it's not -"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Draco. It's not like we were ever. . . ."

By Salazar Slytherin's pet snake, she felt that way about him, too. He was simultaneously overjoyed and horrified. "I - Hermione - no - I swear - Merlin - I wasn't - I didn't -"

"It's fine, Draco." Were those tears in her eyes?

He had a sudden urge to put his arms around her, to whisper into her beautiful thick hair that everything would be fine, and he didn't give a magical sock about Ginny Weasley, and that it was all Zabini's fault. . . . "No, Hermione, I swear -"

"No, Dra - Malfoy. Don't. It's fine."

She picked up her stack of books and just like that, she was gone, leaving Draco alone in the library.

This was going to be harder than it looked.

﴾©﴿

Draco woke abruptly in the middle of the night from yet another nightmare.

As he took stock of his surroundings, he could feel something on his face. He reached up.

There was a note taped to his forehead.

Tape was not a common occurrence in Hogwarts. Most people just used permanent sticking charms, or tacks, which he was very grateful had not been used in this circumstance.

He peeled the note off his forehead and read it.

 _Tick . . . tick . . . tick._

Draco was going to _kill_ that Zabini.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fanfiction was not a one-woman effort. I'd like to credit one Miss Cassiopeia Khizana, AKA Macbeth99, for all of her invaluable help. Once you're finished with this, you might want to check out some of her stuff too. It's** _ **that**_ **good.**


	6. Chapter 5

He cornered Ginny the next day before lunch.

It was going to be awkward, that was certain. It was going to be horribly unpleasant, and he was slightly frightened for his life.

Plus, if he was honest with himself, he was kind of weirded out that Zabini wanted to date a thirteen year old Gryffindor redheaded blood traitor. But who could question Zabini's tastes when there was so much at stake?

"Hey, Weasley!" he called to Ginny as soon as he spotted her, walking towards the Great Hall with her patched-up backpack swaying slightly behind her. Ginny turned to look at him and paled as soon as she saw who was calling her. Her friends stood next to her proudly, as though they could help her against him. He snarled at them. "I need to talk to Weasley. Alone."

They scampered off, and Draco leaned forward. He would have to play this cool, he realized. Ginny probably wouldn't respond well to threats, and he doubted Zabini would be all right with the whole thing if Ginny was just too terrified to turn him down. No, he'd have to be smart.

"Er, listen. . . Ginny," Draco said in what he hoped was a friendly, non-violent tone. "You know Blaise Zabini?"

She nodded, her eyes on the ground, one finger playing nervously with a lock of hair. Draco ran a hand through his well-gelled hair. "Look, he likes you, all right? You want to go out with him?"

Ginny made a sound most resembling a squeak. Draco sighed. "I know, I know, it's really weird. But can you?"

She looked like she was going to pass out when those rotten Weasley twins came up to her.

"Malfoy," one of them said, tilting backwards on the balls of his feet, "are you talking to our sister?"

"Because," the second one said, "we don't like it when Slytherins talk to our sister."

"Especially Slytherins like you," said the first one, crossing his arms.

"So get out of here," the second one said, putting a hand into his pocket and drawing out a fistful of colorful candies, "or we'll make sure your next taste of candy is not so pleasant."

"Yeah," said the first one. "We've been looking for a tester for our gag candies."

"Let's just say," said the second, "they're called _gag_ for a reason."

"Just a friendly suggestion," the first one added.

Laughing nastily, the two of them left, each of them with a hand laid protectively on Ginny's shoulder, leaving Draco alone. As the Weasleys walked off, he could hear one of the twins saying, "Ginny, if that git ever tries to threaten you again, you just let us know, all right? Trust me, he'll never try it again."

Draco sighed. His life was harsh.

﴾ ﴿

Professor McGonagall announced the Hogsmeade trip the next day, and while a tiny, tiny, tiny part of Draco wished he could be going with Hermione, he was mostly glad to be going with his fellow Slytherins anyway.

Blaise caught him getting his things together as the students all left the classroom. "Hullo, Malfoy," he said in a suspiciously civil, if quiet, tone.

"Zabini," Draco said, fearing the conversation that lay ahead.

"Just checking on how things are going with Ginny Weasley," Zabini said. "Have you spoken with her, yet?"

"I'm working on it," Draco said, figuring this was a safer bet than explaining what had really gone on. "I think the next Hogsmeade weekend will work," he added, lying through his teeth.

"Good," said Zabini. "I suppose I'll just have to keep this around until then."

He gave a quick, furtive glance around the room and, finding it deserted, pulled something small out of his pocket. "Because I'd just hate for this to have to go around the school."

Draco looked. It was a reel of film in a clear case. Zabini smirked and slipped it back into his pocket. "That's right, Malfoy. Oh, and don't try any funny business. I'll be taking this with me to Hogsmeade. It'll be on my person the entire time. To get to it, you'd need to get through me first. And I don't think that'd be a very. . . _enjoyable_ experience for you, what with you needing _tutoring_ and all in waving your wand around and trying not to look completely pathetic in front of your precious little Mudblood. . . _crush._ "

With that, Blaise Zabini left the room, leaving Draco's blood pressure skyrocketing.


	7. Chapter 6

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle started off in Honeydukes along with roughly half of the Hogwarts population, buying a nice stash of candy to last until their parents' next care packaged arrived. He spotted Zabini a few times, but they hadn't spoken at all. On these occasions, Zabini smirked and tapped his pocket, where he kept the roll of film that had the picture of Draco and Hermione, while Draco shot him his best Death Glare. He'd seen his father do it on their old house elf, Dobby. It always produced desired results.

When Crabbe and Goyle were off checking out the free samples of pumpkin pasties, Draco bumped into Zabini for the fourth time. Zabini grinned maniacally and patted his pocket once more. Draco said, "Would you just quit it?"

"Quit what?" Zabini said, smirking, clearly enjoying seeing Draco's discomfort.

"You know what I'm talking about, Zabini," Draco spat contemptuously.

"Oh, do I?" said Zabini. "Remind me again. I get confused easily, you know."

"Just - just shut up, Zabini!"

Zabini ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth and slipped his hand yet another time into the pocket of his robes. "Shut up, eh? I don't think I'll be doing that when I possess what I do, Malfoy."

"You're - you're just - you know something, Zabini? You're just -" He was running out of things to say, and his rage and frustration and nerves colored his vision in a spark of angry white. "You're just jealous of me! I can get a girl by myself, but you need to blackmail me to get you to go on a date with some ginger of a blood-traitor Gryffindor."

Zabini lowered his hand from his pocket immediately. His breathing grew slower and heavier. _"What_ did you say, Malfoy?"

"You heard me just fine, Zabini," said Draco, suddenly wondering if he had made a mistake. Zabini was larger than he was, and probably stronger too . . . but he couldn't back down.

"I wouldn't talk if I were you," said Zabini slowly, inching closer to Draco. "No, I would not. At least I don't have a mum who looks like yours."

"Don't you insult my mum!" Draco said, his voice squeakier than he would have liked. He didn't have time to think of a better retort, though, and almost instinctively, he reached forward and punched Zabini hard in the jaw.

"I'll insult whoever I so please, you git," Zabini hissed, rubbing his jaw, "and I'll _thank_ you to keep your filthy hands to yourself. You punch like a Hufflepuff."

He punched Draco square in the gut, and Draco doubled over in pain, all the breath knocked out of him. Zabini grinned wickedly. "Not just a Hufflepuff, a house-elf, too. You didn't even see that one coming! Have you ever fought before? Oh! I know. Did your mummy teach you?"

"You take that back _."_ Draco punched again, not knowing where in his breathless state. What he heard was a sickening crunch. A moment later, Zabini pulled out a crumpled, destroyed bit of film out of his pocket.

"Merlin - I - Malfoy - you _imbecile_ \- destroying my film - I'm going to -" Zabini took another step forward and smashed Draco twice, in the jaw and in the side of his nose. Draco felt his nose crunch, and a waterfall of scarlet cascaded down over his chin and down his shirt just as he heard the clearing of someone's throat near him.

"Mr. Zabini, Mr. Malfoy, I should like to know what is going on here."

They both turned. Professor McGonagall was standing next to them, her face severe. Draco swallowed hard. He was not going down easily. He put on his best I'm-completely-innocent-and-didn't-do-anything-but-am-merely-the-victim-here look.

"Professor - I was just standig here, bindig by own bizdiz, when Zabidi -"

"Oh, shut up, git," Zabini said. "Professor, Malfoy started it."

"I did'id do anydig!"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Mr. Zabini, Mr. Malfoy, I have been teaching for a lot of years. How foolish do you think I am? I can recognize a broken nose when I see one." She started forward, pulling Draco's hand off his nose. Blood spilled down his chin again. She released his hand immediately.

"But seeing as I can prove nothing," she said, "and seeing as I take neither of your words, I will have to punish you both as I see fit."

Draco wiped his bloody nose on the back of his hand. Zabini glared at him. McGonagall said, "I am quite ashamed of you both. Ten points will be taken from Slytherin for each of you. And Mr. Zabini, you will be serving detention. Be at my office tonight at eight o'clock sharp."

"What about -" Zabini started angrily, pointing at Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy will be having his Hogsmeade visit cut short," Professor McGonagall said. "He will report straight to the hospital wing before Ambrosius Flume has us all thrown out for brawling. And both of you, please know that I am very disappointed in you. Fistfighting is not the way men should resolve their differences."

Draco grinned. Not bad! Only twenty points from Slytherin, detention for Zabini, the film broken, and any threats completely gone. He wiped his nose on his sleeve again. He couldn't wait to tell Hermione what had happened.


End file.
